Someone To Talk To
by M.E. Magnificent Entity
Summary: After the war... what happens to the heroes? A series of first-person narratives done by the pilots (and a couple of others). Yaoi (1x2, 3x4x5), sympathetic Relena. COMPLETE
1. Duo: Sunset Games

Gundam Wing and all its little characters are not mine with which to create madness and mayhem, I just borrow them. This takes place after Endless Waltz, in my own little dream world (ha ha). Warnings include T?WT?, shonen ai (1x2, hints of 3x4x5), and first person monologue. 

Um, okay, here's the deal. 'Zel-chan scared my muse off something like two months ago and she (my muse) has yet to return. So, anyway, I've been forced to make do with some temporary muses (Ralph and the ACoR have graciously agreed to take on the task), but the problem is that they have really weird...tastes... Ralph just wants oddball comedy, which is actually okay with me (he's helping me and 'Zel with "Heero Potter"), but the ACoR is a hopeless romantic, and she wants me to write sap, which I'm not very good at. Bear with me and hope that my muse returns soon. 

... sap... think sap (is getting into Sap Mentality). ::all revved up:: All right! I can DO this! Really. 

Someone to Talk To  
**Duo: Sunset Games**  
By: M.E. (Magnificent Entity) 

* * *

_ "So, what do we do now?" asked Alai. "The bugger war's over, and so's the war down there on Earth, and even the war here. What do we do now?"  
"We're kids," said Petra. "They'll probably make us go to school. It's the law. You have to go to school until you're seventeen." They all laughed at that. Laughed until tears streamed down their faces._   
  
— from Ender's Game, by Orson Scott Card 

* * *

I love sunsets. Always have, always will. I know it sounds sort of sappy and romantic, but I just love the way that all the colors bleed together, creating one giant wash of vibrant red, golden yellow, royal purple, and sometimes even a hint of green. Like I said before, I know it sounds sappy and romantic, but it's true. I love sunsets. 

Quatre always said that sunrises are his favorite, and he kept on telling me that I should come out and watch one with him. Ha. Big joke– like I'd ever let him drag me out of bed before eight a.m. I discovered a long time ago that I'm not a morning person. Having additionally classified myself as the opposite, a night owl, I intend to remain as such. If I'm the type who hesitates over changing his socks (and I am– they're just so much more comfortable once they've been walked in), I'm certainly not going to change my sleeping habits in order to watch one silly sunrise. 

And, anyway, it couldn't possibly as good as a sunset. No way. No how. Nuh uh. 

If you know me at all, you're probably wondering why the hell I'm watching a sunset right now. You might even be about to ask me something along the lines of "Don't you have anything you should be blowing up right now?", since it seems people think that that's all terrorists do in their spare time. It's kinda... I dunno... What I mean is– I do other things too. I read a lot– sure, it's mostly manga, but everyone has their own version of the classics. 

Don't give that kind of look– I really don't wanna have to deal with you right now. 

An-ee-way, back to why I'm watching a sunset instead of blowing shit up. Well, the thing is, there really isn't anything to blow up any more. I mean, the war's over and everything, so I don't get to play around with explosives now. 

Yes, I'm just as upset about this as you are. I mean, what's the point of being a trained terrorist if you can't even get a hold of sparklers or any other minor fireworks? All that training, gone down the drain! Not to mention the severe lack of amusement for those of us with pyromaniacle natures. 

I don't know who's more upset over this- me or the explosives industry. 

So here I am, deprived of my hand grenades, rocket launchers, guns, etc. Administration won't even let me have a pocket knife, which is a major let down, since I was planning to finish whittling this sorry looking dog I started on about two years ago. I swear that if Administration could pass a law against having fun, they would. 

This is absolutely the last time I let the government pick the school I go to. As soon as I'm a legal adult, bam! I'm outta here. 

Oh. You hadn't thought of that, had you? That I'm not a legal adult yet, that I've still got a year to go. 

I guess none of us really considered what might happen to us after the war. I mean, sure we're kids, but we're also trained terrorists (as you pointed out earlier), so we're all really mature. Yes, I am mature– think about it, who's asking the stupid questions here, you or me? 

Ah, so you admit defeat. Maybe there is some hope for you after all. 

Yeah, so here we are, the five of us. The war is over, we figure we can do anything we want- we skip around for a year or so, the public has forgotten about us, we've become obscure again. And then, bang! Marimeia has her fun, and we're suddenly in the news again. Some smart-ass reporter decides to stick his nose into places where it doesn't belong, and dredges up some interesting information on exactly how old we all are. One thing leads to another, the government realizes that we're all under eighteen and haven't really gone to school for at least two years. They try to take it up with our parents only to find that we don't have any. I guess their response could be described as a "hissy fit." 

It wasn't so bad for Quatre– one of his sisters legally adopted him and got him set up doing home study. Relena was really lucky too. Sure, once the new bureaucracy found out her real age they kicked her out of her diplomatic position, citing some obscure age rule, but she doesn't have to worry about not having a legal guardian like the rest of us, since her foster mom is still alive. So, anyway, now Miss Princess is off in some elite private school, just waiting until she's old enough to go back into politics. She tried writing to Heero for a while there, but he never replied to any of her letters. I found one stuffed in the circular filing system, asked him about it, and decided that if he wasn't going to reply, I would. Me and her have become something akin to pen pals– we write back and forth, exchanging gossip, swapping school escape plans– you know the drill. 

So, anyway, Relena and Quatre got off pretty easy, all in all. 

Not so for the rest of us. We were made wards of state and then stuck in this god awful public boarding school where the school psychiatrist picks our brains at least twice a week, sure that we must have been traumatized by what we did in the war. For once, we all agree with Wufei: this is most unjust. 

I guess the school is okay though, if you don't consider the head-shrinker, uniforms, and food. It's not that I don't want to learn or that I already know everything– for some reason Professor G felt that English and art shouldn't be part of the required training for a teenage terrorist– it's that I want to be able to learn it my own way at my own pace. 

Heero wants me to come inside and finish my English homework (sentence diagraming– believe me, I'm not looking forward to it), since I didn't get done this afternoon– the reason, being of course, that that damned psychologist kept us all an hour longer than usual today. 

Wufei's pissed at me about that. He says it's my fault and that I should've never baited her by saying that I'm all together since I know where my towel is. [1] Wu-man really needs to get himself a decent sense of humor. 

Strangely enough, Heero's been great about all this, even though he doesn't like it any better than I do. He's kind of like the parent I never really had– he makes me do my schoolwork, makes sure that I go to bed at a decent time, never mind if we don't exactly get to sleep right away. 

Amazing that Administration actually let us pick our own roommates. There was some talk about making us room with other people (helping us "adjust" to the post-war world), but the parents of the other kids complained that they didn't want their children sharing rooms with "blood-thirsty maniacs." So I get a room with Heero, and Trowa and Wufei get to share a room, which I know makes them happy, even if it's just the two of them and Quatre's not there. 

It's strange about Quatre. He never contacts any of us– I haven't heard from him since the last time I saw him, which was about two months after the Eve Wars. I know that both Wufei and Trowa are pissed at him about something, but I'm not sure what. I think I'll write to blondie when I go back inside. Maybe I'll tell him about you. 

Yeah, I know. It's getting late– I'd better go, or else Heero will come after me again. I'll come and talk to you again tomorrow, Father, same time, same place. See you around. 

* * *

[1] Heh, heh. No fic with literary references is complete without at least one reference to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. ::bows:: Thank you. 

No, Duo is *not* talking to a priest. He's talking to God. I think. It looks to me like Ralph helped me with this one a lot more than the ACoR. Oh, well. I like writing from Duo's pov because I feel that I can usually get him in character (which is hard for me with most characters). Most likely 'Zel would say that this is because he and I are so similar, personality-wise. Ha ha. 


	2. Quatre: In the Combine

I guess my muse isn't really lost- I just got a postcard from her, and she's in Hawaii (what the hell is she doing in Hawaii without me?!) and doing fine. She also sent me some ideas for inspiration, which is just as well because neither Ralph nor the ACoR wanted to touch this part. They both said that it was way out of their fields of specialty. 

Gundam Wing and all its little characters are not mine with which to create madness and mayhem, I just borrow them. This takes place after Endless Waltz, in my own little dream world (ha ha). Warnings for this fic so far include T?WT?, shonen ai (1x2, 3x4x5), and first person monologue. Angst in this part. 

Someone to Talk To  
**Quatre: In the Combine**  
By: M.E. (Magnificent Entity) 

* * *

_"McMurphy doesn't know it, but he's onto what I realized a long time back, that it's not just the Big Nurse by herself, but it's the whole Combine, the nation-wide Combine that's the really big force, and the nurse is just a high-ranking official for them."_   
  
— Chief Bromden, from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, by Ken Kesey 

* * *

I got a letter today. From my friend, Duo Maxwell. He was the one who suggested that I try talking to you. He said that you listen. I figure that I don't have anything to loose, so I'll give it a whirl even if I'm not all that religious. 

Duo is the only one of the other pilots who'll still talk (or, rather, write) to me. He hasn't been put off yet by the fact that I never answer the letters he sends. I think that might be because he talks so much that he doesn't really notice when people don't reply. 

I want to write back– really I do. I just can't. They won't let me. 

Studying Duo's letters, I've gathered enough information to figure out that they all think I'm getting home schooled. The letters are sent to my home account, at least. I wouldn't even be getting them if Iria wasn't kind enough to forward them to my account here. Even if I could write back, I wouldn't have the heart to tell Duo where I actually am, since it seems to cheer him up that one of us escaped the clutches of the government. 

I don't want to destroy his hope by telling them that I've been committed to a mental institution on the grounds that I'm a homicidal maniac. 

In the letter that I got today, Duo says that he thought of me a few days ago while watching a sunset. He says that he remembers how I used to always try to get him up early enough to watch a sunrise. I feel happy when I read his description of the sunset. 

I haven't seen the sun in over five months. The keep me locked up in Disturbed twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, so I don't get out much (ever). All the rooms (cells) in Disturbed are sterile white boxes without windows. 

Duo says that he and Relena are planning to escape from their respective schools. He says that they'll come and get me when they finally manage to break out. I don't know how they'll do it, since they think I'm living at home, not locked up here. 

But, still, it's nice to think about it. Sometimes at night I dream of him busting through the door to my room, his eyes sparkling with mischief and his braid swinging. Relena is close behind, dressed up in camouflage army fatigues and carrying a rocket launcher. Duo asks me if there's anything I want to take along, and I say no (what would I want? My toothbrush?) while Relena guards the door. I follow them out the door, down the hall, and out of Disturbed. We go down the stairs and outside (where the sun, the beautiful, wonderful sun, is shining) and I get onto a motorcycle with Duo (Relena always disappears at this point for some reason), and we drive off towards the horizon. In my dream, when Duo and I finally stop, Trowa and Wufei are there, and they're not mad at me anymore, just happy to see me. 

Most nights I have nightmares. 

I knew when our records came into the eyes of the public at the end of the Eve Wars and the government got all weird about us Gundam pilots, it was only a matter of time before those goons decided to do something about us. I kind of expected them to get upset over the fact that my files say that I'm mentally unstable, but I never thought that they'd lock me away like this. That they would declare me psychotic and a Menace to Society. I guess that's what happens when you go insane with grief and you have the Zero System to help you along. 

Out of all of us, I always thought that Heero was the one who had the best bet for a one-way ticket to a mental asylum. I guess that all of this shows just how little I know. 

Actually, I really wouldn't mind this all that much if they let me talk to people. They provide me with enough reading material to keep me occupied most of the time, and they let me receive letters, even if I'm not allowed to reply. But I wish I could talk to someone. Since I'm under eighteen and therefore a minor, they won't let me mingle with the other patients, and the nurses are all afraid of me on account of my gruesome reputation (See that one? He trashed two colonies during the war! Two!). 

If it wasn't for Duo's letters, I don't know how I'd survive. Both Wufei and Trowa stopped writing three months ago, after sending a joint letter that basically said that if I didn't even have the time to reply to them, then they both through with me and cutting me out of our relationship. 

A few days later I asked a nurse from some tape (I wanted put a photograph of the three of us– Wufei, Trowa, and myself– on the wall), but she wouldn't give it to me. I think they were afraid that I'd try to use the tape to somehow kill myself, since I tried to slit my wrists after reading that letter. 

I wish that I could tell them, tell Trowa and Wufei, tell Duo, even tell Heero, how much I miss them all, but I can't, I'm not allowed. 

So that's why I'm talking to you now. Duo said that when he's not feeling that good, it helps him to speak to you, and I've been through a lot of bad stuff lately. The time intervals between Duo's letters are getting longer, soon he'll probably stop writing all together. I need something to keep me sane when that happens, I think talking to you will do that. 

I have to stop now. The nurse wants to dope me up with some sedative– Iria is coming to visit me later on and they don't want me to be lucid enough to really talk to her. She– the nurse– is staring at me now, trying to figure out if it's safe to come near me, since she thinks I'm talking to myself, and that scares her. 

Thank you for listening. Duo was right, it does help. 

Maybe I can visit you again sometime...? 


	3. Relena: Faerie Tale Countrie

Gundam Wing and all its little characters are not mine with which to create madness and mayhem, I just borrow them. This takes place after Endless Waltz, in my own little dream world (ha ha). Warnings for this fic so far include T?WT?, first person monologue, and shounen ai (1x2, 3x4x5), but not in this part. I guess. 

While my muse has returned, I'm trying very hard to keep her away from this part, since the ACoR wanted a shot at a fic, Fred bless her large and strangely rock-like heart... 

Rapunzel: It **is** a rock, M.E.! 

Oh, be quiet. 

Someone to Talk To  
**Relena: Faerie Tale Countrie**  
By: M.E. (Magnificent Entity) 

* * *

_"[He] would have looked like a hero if only had known he was a hero; but he looked wretched, embarrassed, hunching his shoulders and losing his share in glory because nobody had ever told him he had a share in glory."_   
  
— from The Beginning Place, by Ursula K. Le Guin 

* * *

It's the witching hour right now. The time between night and day, dream and awakening, when "all the dark things come out from hiding and have the world to themselves." [1] Everything is quiet, no sounds can be heard other than those made by my beating heart, shallow breathing, and, now, my whispered voice. The darkness around me is so complete I can't even see my hand in front of my face. 

I would be a liar if I said that it didn't scare me, because it does. If it didn't I would be asleep now instead of sitting up in my bed, trying hard to ignore the dense, inky blackness around me. 

I'm not succeeding. 

So instead I'm talking to you, hoping that you will be able to comfort me, just like you did when I was younger and there was a monster in the closet or a nightmare under the bed. 

As long as I talk, I know that you're still here, watching and listening. 

As long as I talk, I know that I'm not alone. 

I haven't talked to you since the war ended, have I? I haven't felt the need, I guess. That, or maybe I'm still mad at you for what you never told me, for the ignorant fantasy you allowed me to dream. Why didn't you ever tell me then that I was a hero (heroine) too? Why did you let me run around like a fool, trying to live a part of the fairy tale, when all the time I was already a main character in the story? 

Why didn't you tell me that not every fairy tale ends with "happily ever after"? 

The one that I'm in now, this twisted fable that has trapped us all in its fabric, certainly hasn't ended that way. I'm not talking about the fact that the princess didn't marry the hero. I always knew that that would never happen, and, truthfully, I never wanted it to happen. During the war, I didn't chase Heero because I was in love with him, I did it because he was the one solid thing left in my world, the one thing that still seemed to make sense. My world had become a bedtime story, one with a hero and knights in shining armor– an epic tale of good versus evil, or so it seemed. I couldn't comprehend it all, and so latched on to the one thing I could identify clearly, the hero. 

The ending I'm talking about is the one that I'm living now along with the other heroes, the pilots. This endless and monotonous hell that seems to encompass us, choking out our breath and life. 

I've written to Duo about this, and I know that he feels it too, perhaps even more than I do, since he knows what it's like to fly, and now they've put him in a cage and clipped his wings. He jokes about being forced to go to school, but I've learned to read between the lines in his letters, and I can see the pain that speaks in his voice. He's afraid, like I am, afraid they'll never let us out, afraid that we'll never get to be our own people. He's afraid that something's happened to Quatre. 

I know why the cage bird sings. [2] 

Sometimes I wonder if none of it ever happened, if the war never really happened. Other times I wonder if maybe it did happen and that we– myself and the pilots– are the make believe, the fiction in the story. 

We were all heroes, but they've taken that away. They've taken away the glory, hiding it under impossible layers of scandal and hate. No one wants to admit that a handful of kids saved the world, no one wants to know the truth behind the soldiers. I have sunk into obscurity, and they have been cursed as ruthless killers, heartless machines bent on destruction. 

In fighting, we became different. In being different, we have become something less than human. 

Why do you continue to create Man with such a narrow mind? Haven't we paid enough for the betrayal of Adam and Eve? 

Or maybe that's why you chose to leave me in ignorance. Adam and Eve were cast out of the Garden because they chose knowledge over fear. Do you want us all to live in fear? 

I'm crying now. All of it scares me. All of the dark things that have crawled out of the recesses of my mind. 

More than anything, I want to be able to curl up on my father's lap and hear him tell me that everything will be all right. But he's not here anymore, he's gone, left me for the wolves. 

You're still here. 

Thank you. 

* * *

[1] Paraphrased from Roald Dahl's The BFG. It was the only place I could find any reference to the witching hour, since I'm too lazy to look on the 'net right now.  
[2] I had to read this book in eighth grade– we never actually finished it and I didn't particularly enjoy it, but I guess the poem is slightly better... 


	4. Wufei: Wounded Angels

Gundam Wing and all its little characters are not mine with which to create madness and mayhem, I just borrow them. This takes place after Endless Waltz, in my own little dream world (ha ha). Warnings for this fic so far include T?WT?, shounen ai, and first person monologue. Pairings include 1x2, 3x4x5, and "shades" of 5+M in this part. 

I'm getting better at this, and I think this fic might actually have a happy ending (don't plan on it). Rapunzel wants me to save Quatre, but I can't because so many people want him to be saved. I just... can't. Mini-M.E. wants me to kill someone, preferably Trowa or Heero, but I can't do that either. 

Someone to Talk To  
**Wufei: Wounded Angels**  
By: M.E. (Magnificent Entity) 

* * *

_"The wound begins to close in on itself, to protect what is hurting so much. And once it is closed, you no longer see what is underneath, what started the pain."_  
  
— from The Joy Luck Club, by Amy Tan

* * *

It hurts. Oh god, Nataku, it hurts so much. This pain, this sense of loss, confusion, abandonment. I never thought that one day I would be forced to feel this again, be forced to relive the emotions that I suffered through following your death. 

I never thought that I would be able to care for someone again. 

I loved you, Nataku, didn't you ever know that? Justice was not the sole reason that I fought in the war. Nor was the need to live up to your dream. Most of my willingness to battle came from my love for you. 

Every day of the life that I have lived in your absence I have spent regretting that I never had the courage to ever tell you how I felt about you when I had the chance. Now I regret that I have stupidly allowed myself to make the same mistake a second time. 

There are days when I wonder why I allowed this to happen. There are times when I don't want to get up the morning. And all too often I wish that I could just end it all. End the monotony, the captivity, the pain. 

I think Trowa tries to help, but he's not any better off, he's just as bad as me. Perhaps worse. Perhaps not. I try to help him, but the pain distracts me, and I find myself unable to concentrate. 

We are slowly slipping apart, he and I. We were never meant to fit straight together, were instead meant to be bridged, to be unified indirectly. There was another puzzle piece between us before, one that held the three of us all together. Now that connecting piece is missing, causing us to be mismatched, to rub the wrong way. We try to make it work, but it is impossible, and all the trying only leads to more pain, more hardship. 

If two pieces do not fit together and you try to force them, eventually one will break, if not both. He and I have been trying too hard for too long, and soon, too soon, one of us will break. It is no longer a question now, but a known and expected fact. 

The only question is who will break first, and if the other will follow. 

I am hoping that I will be the one who breaks, and not him. He has done nothing to deserve this pain, has not sinned as I have. He is not a demon, as I am. 

Always before, I felt as if I had somehow been betrayed when you left me. Now I feel as if the tables have turned, causing me to become the betrayer and no longer the betrayed. I see now that you did not leave me because of any wish of your own. I see now that it was time for you to leave (too soon, all too soon)– even if I didn't accept it, I do see it. And I see that you wished to make amends (what had I done to curry such favor? All I have caused you is pain...), and so you sent down an angel from heaven to comfort me, to love me. 

That was Quatre. 

And now he is gone. Gone forever, out of my reach, out of my touch, all because of me and my idiotic pride. You gave me a second chance and I threw it away, just as I threw away my first chance, my chance with you. 

Some days I wonder whether my angel was actually a punishment, not a gift as I first supposed. On those days I also wonder if I am now a devil for having shot down an angel. 

And I fear that soon another angel will be added to my scorecard of losses. 

If you did not send me Quatre, then surely you sent me Trowa. Poor Trowa, it took Quatre and myself so long to coax the turtle out of his shell, and were both amazed by what we found inside. 

Trowa has been so quiet since we came here, since we last saw Quatre, since we last heard from our beautiful blonde. I mean, he's always quiet– Duo jokes about it sometimes, calling him "The Silent One"– but this is different. Now he never talks above a whisper, and when he does speak it is only in short, fragmented sentences. He is returning to his shell, going deeper inside than ever before. When I try to talk to him, to touch him, to comfort him, he shrinks away, as if he is afraid of me. 

Whenever he looks at me, I get the strange feeling that he doesn't really see the me of now, but rather the me from six months ago, the me that betrayed him and Quatre by siding with Marimeia. Maybe all he sees is the blade of my sword at his throat; I don't know, he never talks about it. 

Most of the time he just stares at the floor. 

I think that that was when the relationship really started to fall apart, though Quatre's leaving didn't help any, of course. And now... 

Why the hell did I pressure Trowa to add his signature to that letter? Why couldn't I just let things be, why couldn't I trust Quatre? For some insane reason I thought that I would be able to bring Quatre back through threats. I guess I never considered the possibility that he might not reply, that it might really be over. I should have never forced Trowa to go along with that harebrained idea. 

It's all my fault, Nataku. 

Some nights I dream that the three of us are together again, that Quatre ignored that awful, accursed letter and returned, forgiving me. I always know that these are dreams, because in reality, no one could ever forgive me for the damage I have wrecked on both my lovers' lives, not even Quatre with his sweet, almost-innocence. 

All of it hurts so much, Nataku. I do not you ask for relief from the pain, I know that I have earned every moment of suffering. I only ask one thing from you, one simple thing: 

Take pity on my angels, and save them from me. Save them from my destructive soul. Save Trowa from me, if it is at all possible. Take him out of my reach to someplace where I can't hurt him any more, where my disease cannot infect him. Find Quatre and save him from whatever terrible fate my pride has cursed him with. 

Do not try to save me. I do not deserve the salvation that you might bless me with. I do not deserve a shred of happiness or hope, though I know that I would be happy beyond imagining if you could just repair the damage I have caused, if you could restore Trowa's hope and Quatre's happiness. I offer you thanks in advance, in case you choose to grant my request. 

Never try to save me, Nataku. Always allow me to fall with my broken wings. Like Icarus, I would not heed my elder's orders, and so I must share my fate with him. [1] I am not ignorant, I know that only angels can fly, never demons nor devils. Never try to change that which is set in stone. 

Never try to save that which is doomed. 

Good bye, Nataku... Meiran... 

Wo ai ni. [2] 

* * *

[1] Icarus is from Greek mythology. Supposedly his father built wings out of wax and feathers so that they could both escape from the Labyrinth on Crete. Icarus was told by his father to not get too close to the sun, because then the wax holding the feathers together would melt, and the wings would fall apart. Being your average teenager, Icarus had to do exactly what he was told not to do, and ended up plummeting to the sea below, and, of course, dying. (Yes, 'Zel-chan, I know you and Blue Jeans already know all this...)  
[2] Just in case nobody knows, "wo ai ni" is Chinese for "I love you." It is also the only Chinese that I know (may Fred bless the educational value of Fushigi Yuugi!). 

Oh well, no happy ending, I guess. Wah! Poor Woofy seems to have something of a self-esteem problem. For some reason it seems like the ones who appear to be the most confident are usually the least. Darn. Rereading this, for some reason it sounds like he's about to kill himself... cool! ^.^ 


	5. Trowa: Half Memory

Gundam Wing and all its little characters are not mine with which to create madness and mayhem, I just borrow them. This takes place after Endless Waltz, in my own little dream world (ha ha). Warnings for this fic so far include T?WT?, shounen ai (1x2, 3x4x5), and first person monologue. 

Since I don't see Trowa as being very religious, I had a hard time thinking of who he might talk to. I decided in the end to use Rapunzel's suggestion. Thanks, 'Zel! ^.^ 

Someone to Talk To  
**Trowa: Half Memory**  
By: M.E. (Magnificent Entity) 

* * *

_"Sometimes when I'm waking up, I have a feeling– I can almost put my finger on it– it's sort of a half memory about loving somebody who was very, very good. But maybe I made that up. Now you're laughing at me..."_   
  
— Kay Hallowell, from The Dreaming Jewels, by Theodore Sturgeon 

* * *

Hello. I need some advice, and you're the only one I can think of who I can talk to. Maybe I shouldn't say "talk," since I'm not really talking, am I? Maybe I should say (think) "commune, nm" instead. Maybe I should just forget about this, it's a stupid idea anyway. 

I know you can't really hear me, but I try anyway. 

I'm scared again. I haven't felt like this since I was a little kid, since before I joined the mercenaries, when I didn't have anyone to turn to. I barely remember that time, but I do know that I was frightened. And lonely. Like I am now. 

I'm probably not as lonely as you are though, since I've still got Wufei. He's so nice, and a lot more understanding than most people would think. I didn't believe you when you first told me how nice he could be. I'm sorry, I believe you now. 

You forgive me? Thank you. You have no idea how good that makes me feel, to hear that. Even if I didn't really hear it, I know you said that. Would have said that. If you were here. 

You're not. 

The other day, lying in bed, I thought about you. I think about you all the time of course, as I do Wufei, but not **only** you all the time. Lying there, I thought solely about you. About how you wouldn't want me to just lie around and mope all day, missing you. About how you'd want me to be happy, want Wufei to be happy. 

You were always kind like that. 

Oh god. Did I just do that? Did I really think about you in the past tense? No... No no no nonono– NO! I didn't. I didn't. Really. I didn't. 

We should make a promise. Always present tense. Always today. Always now. Never past. Never gone. Promise? 

Good. 

You're right, I'm getting off topic. Anyway, I need some advice. I want you to help me with Wufei. He's exasperating at times, but that's not the problem. The problem is that I'm scared of him. I'm scared of what he might do, I'm scared of what he might not do. 

I'm scared that if I make him angry, he'll leave me. Like you did. Not that that's your fault. I know it's not. It wasn't your choice. 

But it still hurts me. Hurts me a lot. 

I know he blames himself for sending that letter, but don't you listen to him. It's not just his fault, it's mine too. He didn't force me to sign it, like he says he did. I wanted to sign it. I thought it would bring you back to us. I wanted you to come back. Want. I want you to come back. 

So I'm going to try something. I'm going to write a letter. To you. I'm going to write a letter to you, and make Wufei sign it. Even if he doesn't want to. Don't worry, he will. He misses you too. 

And then I'm going to mail it. To you. And when you get it, you'll see that we haven't forgotten you. That we don't really hate you. That we aren't angry with you. And, most important of all, that we want you back. Now. We want you back now. (Please, won't you come back?) 

I'm not that good at writing letters though, so maybe I'll ask Wufei to help me with it. Our letter should be a joint effort, in any case, since it is both of us who wish to beg your forgiveness. (Please, forgive us?) 

I wanted to ask you if you thought that a letter would be a good idea. Is it? Will it help any? (I'd rather we thanked you in person.) 

It will? Good. Thank you for your advice, I will cherish it. I will cherish you (I always cherish you). 

You want to know what I thought about when I was I lying on my bed the other day? I will tell you, though I don't really want to. It scares me. I don't like to talk about things that scare me. 

I don't talk very much these days. 

I was lying on my bed, holding Wufei's pillow, hugging it to my face. I don't know if he notices when I switch our pillows, but I do it every now and then. I do it because, even though I'm afraid of him (for him) now, I want to be near him, just the same (I want to be near you, too). I was holding it to my face, inhaling. Smelling him. Smelling Wufei. My dragon, our dragon. Wonderful. Do you remember? How he smells? 

And then I thought about you, our angel. I thought about your eyes (sea-green-blue), your hair (pale-golden-yellow), and you (kind-sunshine-calm). And I tried to think about how you smelled– smell (no past tense, remember). But I couldn't remember, I couldn't remember, love. So I curled up around the pillow and cried. I tried to imagine I was curled up in bed with Wufei, and that you'd only just gotten up for a minute. It didn't work, but then it never does. 

So I tried to think about something else. I tried to think about your face, but that only made me more upset. I couldn't remember what you look like. It's like you're gone, and all that's left of you is a lingering half memory. Don't be gone. Please. 

Please... 

He walked through the door just now. And now he's walking towards me... but I'm not afraid of him anymore. I think... I think talking to you helped me. Helped me realize that we all make mistakes, me, you, him. Maybe he just made a mistake when he threatened to kill me before. Maybe he was just as confused then as I am now. Life is made up of a lot of maybes, isn't it? 

He smells spicy, like that incense he always burns. Most likely he's just come back from worshiping Nataku. He still does that, did you know? Even though we don't have the Gundams anymore, he still does that. I guess Wufei wouldn't be Wufei if he didn't worship Nataku. 

Maybe he asked Nataku to bring you back to us. If he did, I hope it listens, wherever it is. 

I'm trying to tell him I'm talking to you right now, but I can't get the words out. Can never get the words out anymore, just the noises, and he doesn't understand the noises most of the time. But... today he does, for some strange reason. It's like some god has reached down and touched his ears, because today he understands me. 

Can't you hear his voice? (It's beautiful, reminds me of velvet.) Maybe you're not trying hard enough. Maybe he's not trying hard enough. Maybe none of us are. 

He says he misses you (of course– who wouldn't? Who doesn't?). He says that he's just as afraid that I'll leave him as I am that he'll leave me. But he also says that he wants me to leave, which confuses me. What does it mean? Why would he want me to leave? (What have I done wrong?) Now he says that he's going to find a way for us to go and see you. I like that idea. 

He says that he loves you, and that he's sorry he never told you. I'm sorry too. For him, and for me, because I never told you that I love you. I'll tell you now, okay? 

I love you. 

I loved you before, and I love you now. I think I'll always love you and him. Both of you. We belong together, the three of us. I know you agree. I know Wufei agrees. So we're coming. We're coming to you, Quatre, just wait a little longer. 

Miss you. 

* * *

Wow. Look at that. It's actually kind of sappy and happy. I hope you're all happy. It looks like they might be coming to get Quatre, but since I still have Heero's part to write (and a possible epilogue), I wouldn't get your hopes, if I were you. Hmm.... if Trowa's thought process seems a bit... strange... I believe that this is the result of him suffering from a nervous breakdown or something in Quatre's absence (I mean, who wouldn't– here you are, you've got two gorgeous boyfriends, and within the period of about one or two months one threatens to kill you and the other disappears to places unknown). 


	6. Heero: So It Goes

Gundam Wing and all its little characters are not mine with which to create madness and mayhem, I just borrow them. This takes place after Endless Waltz, in my own little dream world (ha ha). Warnings for this fic in its entirety so far include T?WT?, first person monologue, and shounen ai (1x2, 3x4x5). 

Since I haven't reminded anyone recently, I feel obligated to state once again that I have, in fact, seen a complete total of 13 episodes of Gundam Wing (but I've seen three different versions of Endless Waltz!). Rapunzel (darn her) has seen the entire series and so is able to help me with some plot points, but only to a limited extent. 

Someone to Talk To  
**Heero: So It Goes**  
By: M.E. (Magnificent Entity) 

* * *

_"Listen:  
Billy Pilgrim has come unstuck in time."_   
  
— from Slaughterhouse-Five, by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. 

* * *

Two days. Two days until this is all over, until we leave the school we have been imprisoned in for the last one and a half years. Two days until freedom. 

Two days until hell. 

I do not know what to do, god help me. I honestly do not know what I am going to do afterwards. After the school, after the graduation. Afterwards we'll all be on our own, and I will not know what to do. There will be no one to tell me. 

That has never happened to me before. There has always been someone, something, telling me what to do. In the beginning there were many different people, I cannot remember them all now. Then there was Odin Lowe, then Dr. J. After Dr. J, it was the war itself that instructed me. And then, for a short time, the Preventers. Now the school, with its teachers, with the Administration. 

I have always done what I was told. I have always been taught not to ask questions, to just perform my duties. So I have, and it has worked. And now... there is no duty left to be done, I am told. 

I am told that I will be free. Free to make my own decisions, to live my own life. I am told that I will no longer have to do exactly what I am told to do. 

What will I do? I have never done anything else. I have never broken the rules set for me. I have never truly rebelled. 

I have never been a human being. 

There is Duo. Maybe in two days he will step in and become my new taskmaster, replacing the Administration, which replaced the Preventers, which replaced the war, which replaced... 

There has always been a supervisor. That is the way it is done. 

I do not think Duo will take on this job, however, even if I ask him to. He is not the type. He would feel as if he were controlling me, which would, of course, not be true. He would not be controlling me, only leading me. 

I am blind to the path, there must always be someone to lead me, or else I will stumble and fall. 

He interests me, Duo, because he is able to fool himself into believing that he is able to choose his own path. The only reason I can think of as to why this is so is that he has yet to be told that no one chooses their path. No one is their own guide. There is always someone or something controlling you, and something controlling them, and so it goes, on and on for infinity, like the dog on the tin can [1]. 

That dog always scared me, though I never let it show. He had a huge grin, and I once had nightmares of him running after me, trying to eat me. And he would never end in the dreams, just go on and on forever, until at last I woke up. 

Duo might have been able to teach me how to fool myself into thinking that I was free, that I was my own guide, my own person. My own controller. But I have waited too long, there is no time now for such lessons. Only two days are left of the life that I have always known, have always lived. 

Two days until my life ends. I have already decided that I will not accept that end, that I will avoid it at all costs. I have decided that I will escape from this doom that they have assigned me, from their intention to curse me to an existence in which I am an alien and ignorant of all things. I already know how, the way has been shown to me more than once. 

I have never followed that way before, have chosen time and time again to only watch it carefully from a distance. Sometimes I come up close beside it, but I am very careful to never actually set foot on it. I have not taken that step because I have been told not to. They told me not to walk that path, to only walk the one that they showed me, thus binding me to a single road. A single destiny. 

My only regret is that I cannot take Duo with me. He still walks the path blind, but maybe... I might have been able to persuade him to join me if I had tried earlier. But now, with only two days left... He would never agree. He loves the world too much to join me. 

I will miss him, I think. I am not sure though, since a part of me tells me that he, too, is a part of the system. I love him, yes, but why do I love him? Do I love him as a result of my own decision, or because I was once told that everyone falls in love with someone, sometime, and I am just following the rule? Is he a choice or a mandate? I would like to believe that he is a choice, but deep down inside I know that that is not true. I think I'll still miss him, though, even knowing that. 

Something tells me to wait out these two days, stretching what remains of this life to the very end, but I cannot do that. If I were to try to, I would ultimately fail, stop at the last minute, unable to go through with it. 

And not understanding, following the path he has hidden from himself, Duo would try to stop me. I do not think I would be able to stand up to him. 

So it is just as well that I do this now, even though two days of my captive freedom are left. I do not look forward to leaving this cage. I do not look forward to my escape from the looming event of change, but there is nothing else I can do. There are no alternatives left, no other ways to possibly stay in my timeless cocoon. 

I am not completely cruel, however. I am leaving Duo a note. I just finished writing it, it says that it is not his fault, and that I love him and want him to be happy. 

It says that I am escaping my own way, that I am escaping freedom. 

It says that I am happy. 

Goodbye. 

* * *

[1] Um, obscure reference to a children's movie called something along the lines of "A Mouse and His Son"– that or "Little One". Just ignore it. Really. (The thing that confuses me is how Heero ever got a chance to watch it... No. Wait. I **don't** want to know.) 

Rapunzel: You promised me that you wouldn't kill Heero off in this fic! 

I crossed my fingers. (no kidding, I really did– I even remember doing it) Oh, and Heero is talking to himself, not God, not Nataku, not Quatre. Only himself. 


	7. Hilde: Song of Disbelief

Gundam Wing and all its little characters are not mine with which to create madness and mayhem, I just borrow them. This takes place after Endless Waltz, in my own little dream world (ha ha). Warnings for this fic in its entirety so far include T?WT?, first person monologue, and shounen ai (1x2, 3x4x5). 

Argh. I don't think I did a very good job on the last part, since everyone seems to think that Heero was afraid to be on his own and make his own decisions, which wasn't what was going on at all. 

This is the third time I've written this part- trying another person's viewpoint this time. Maybe I'll be happy with it for once (probably not). 

Someone to Talk To  
**Hilde: Song of Disbelief**  
By: M.E. (Magnificent Entity) 

* * *

_"He meant it as a kindness, for how could he know that God had judged me before I was born and had cast me out before I took my first breath?"_   
  
— Louise, from Jacob Have I Loved, by Katherine Paterson 

* * *

When I was nine, I stopped believing in the tooth fairy. I lost my last baby tooth then, and she was no longer a part of my life as I knew it. 

When I was twelve, I stopped believing in Santa Claus. I was almost a teenager, and too grown up to still accept his existence. 

I'm eighteen now, and I don't want to believe in you anymore. I want to put you behind me, like I did with my childhood fantasies, since you are no longer real for me. But you're not like the others, are you? You won't let me stop believing. You won't let me turn my back on you. 

Who gave you the right to decide who may disbelieve? Certainly not me. 

This time I have a better reason to stop believing. I thought about a long time, and put a lot of time and effort into creating my reason. 

It's a very good reason. It'll hold water, at least. 

I don't want to believe in you because you have never done anything for me. You have never helped me in any way, you have never given me anything at all. You have never, as far as I can see, shown any care for the human race. 

You could have, you know. It's part of your job description– I checked. 

The only ones who actually tried to help out our poor species during those awful wars were the Gundam pilots, and maybe Relena Peacecraft. And where are they now, I ask? I never hear anything about them, and I never find them when I look. 

I've looked very hard, you know. You see, I want to thank Duo. He helped me when you wouldn't. Strange, isn't it? In the end, Shinigami turned out to be the more forgiving god. 

Serves you right. 

They show up in the news every now and then, you know. Last June one of them committed suicide. He would have graduated at the top of his class if he had waited a couple of days, but he didn't. Life sucks like that, I guess. We can never wait for the good things. 

That is, if it was a good thing. I starting to think that it might not have been. Either way, I wish him luck wherever he is, and I hope that he is happy. 

Then, in August, there was this scandal because the government was keeping one of the pilots– Quatre, I think– in a mental institution for no decent reason– he tested as being more sane than all of the other patients and even a few of the nurses. The media got wind of it, even though his family tried to hush it up. Though, of course, the only papers interested in printing it were the supermarket tabloids. And even then it didn't make the front page. 

I think that they released him in the end, but I'm not sure. I hope they did, he deserved more than four sterile, white walls for the rest of his life. 

In the end, we all deserve more than that. And we never get it. 

Most of the time I try to just do my schoolwork, make it through my courses, and hope that I get enough credits this semester that my scholarship won't be revoked. But sometimes I remember that I could have ended up like them, forgotten, ignored, neglected. Hated. I could have been like that too, if I had been a better pilot and become well known. But I didn't, did I? I was never good enough to be a household name, and somehow that worked out to my advantage. Because, unlike them, I can walk down the street without being cursed and spat at. Mobbed. 

And this society, it's so strange. It makes no effort to differentiate between those it once revered and those it once hated. You know what I'm talking about, who I'm talking about. Peacecraft. I saw her once, sometime last fall when I was visiting a college, trying to decide whether I should go there (in the end, I didn't). And she's just another of the walking dead now, you know. Earth's most outspoken pacifist, now silent, made mute by the peace that she once fought to preserve. And all around her the world laughs and laughs, a never-ending guffaw. They think it's funny that she will, in all likelihood, never again be anything more than a ghost, a name in history books. 

I wonder if they know the damage that they cause each time they let out a chuckle. 

And that's it. That's why. That's the main reason why I no longer wish to believe in you. That all-loving, all-forgiving stuff is crap. If you really were that way, you'd make them stop laughing. That girl and those five pilots would have been your magnum opus, if you had let them. Instead you abandoned them at their peak, letting them rise like multicolored balloons in the sky, only to fall like stones when they were pricked by needles of jealousy and spite. 

And that's not the way it's supposed to be. You're supposed to help them, supposed to do something, anything at all. But you don't, and so now I choose to disbelieve. 

I wouldn't do this, you know, if you did something. If you acted. 

But all you do is watch and listen. Once you were omnipotent, now you are nothing more than someone for people to talk to. 

And I hate you for that. 

* * *


End file.
